Saturday, 1736, Bethesda Naval Medical Center

Tony contemplated his options. He had to find a way to slow Gibbs down if nothing else. Stuck in the hospital the way he was, he couldn't make his arguments stick. Jimmy came in with his book bag, let it thump to the floor and handed Tony a bag from which a delectable aroma rose. Tony grinned. "Pastrami?" he asked.

"Of course."

"I don't suppose you could go grab me a soda?"

Jimmy gave him a grin. "Sure. I'll be back in a couple of minutes."

Once he'd left, Tony reached over and picked up the phone. The number was still fresh in his mind, though it had been a long while since he'd had any reason to call it. It rang once, twice, then he heard her crisp voice. "Shepard."

"Director, this is Agent DiNozzo," he said, glad not to have gotten voice mail.

Her voice changed oddly, growing both more wary and slightly anxious. "Tony, what can I do for you?"

"I'd like to talk to you, if you would be willing to come down here."

"I'm not far away," she said. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

"Thank you, director," Tony said, and he hung up.

Jimmy came back with a couple of cans of soda, and Tony took his with thanks. Jimmy sat down and pulled out one of his books while Tony started to eat. "The director will be here in a little bit," he said after his first bite, and Jimmy's head came up, eyes wide. "When she gets here, I'd like to talk to her alone, but I don't think it will take very long, so there's no need for you to take all your stuff out with you."

"Sure," Jimmy said, his brows knit. "Is something wrong?"

Tony shook his head. "Nothing new," he said, and Jimmy flushed a little.

It was fifteen minutes, not ten, but that gave Tony enough time to get himself outside of the better part of his sandwich. He was just wrapping up the end for later when she walked through the door. She was wearing one of her standard power suits, and she looked both sober and caring. Vaguely maternal, actually, which was more than a little weird. Jimmy got up and excused himself, and Tony gestured towards the chair. "Have a seat, director," he said.

She sat down, looking ill at ease. "What can I do for you, Tony?" she asked again.

"I need you to stop Gibbs' investigation."

Jenny's jaw dropped. After a second, though, she gathered herself. "I would need a very good reason," she said.

"I'll give you several," Tony said. "Gibbs is going to say I'm irrational, but I'm not."

"Prove it."

Tony's eyes narrowed, but he maintained his control. To give way to emotion now would not help his cause. "First, there isn't enough clear evidence to take to a prosecutor," Tony said. "The primary witness to the assault last night has already lied in a federal investigation, and Brody is a decorated cop without any history of complaints."

"You're the primary witness, Tony," Jenny said. "Or are you saying you wouldn't testify?"

Tony shook his head. "It's not that simple, director. He's a cop, and I'm not going to help put a cop in prison, particularly not for rape."

"Sexual assault," she said, her brows knitting. "Or is there something here I don't know about?"

"Gibbs will call it rape," Tony replied, ignoring the voice inside him that said Gibbs was right.

Jenny raised her eyebrows. "Gibbs doesn't throw language like that around," she said. "He must have a reason for calling it that."

Tony shrugged, concealing the effort it took to force himself to talk to her about this. "I didn't . . . I wasn't sufficiently persistent in my refusals."

Her eyes widened. "What are you saying, Tony?"

"I'm saying that . . ." Tony steeled himself. "I let him . . . do what he wanted . . . when I didn't want him to." He looked away from her shocked expression. "I told him no, and when he didn't listen, I didn't do anything to stop him."

"Could you have stopped him?" she asked, her voice gentle.

Tony grimaced both at the question and the tone. "It doesn't matter, I didn't try, and I didn't tell him to stop coming. I was . . . less than clear. Any defense attorney worth his salt will be able to use that to get Brody off from any charges. Like I told Gibbs earlier, the only thing you might be able to get him on is assault, and even that's questionable."

"I see." Jenny studied him, and Tony remained calm and composed, though it took an effort. She had to hear him. "So, you don't think there's enough evidence, and you're not willing to put a cop in prison." Tony nodded. "You said several reasons. Is there anything else?"

Tony shrugged. "Did you know that my father just completed a controversial merger?" She shook her head. "Well, it's been in a lot of papers, and there are plenty of reporters who have their ears out for the name DiNozzo. A juicy scandal would suit them fine, especially since I was less than forthcoming when they called me for information about my father."

"They called you?"

"Wanted anything I could tell them, and I didn't say anything on the principle that if you can't say something nice, you shouldn't say anything at all."

"I can see that," Jenny said. "How are you feeling?"

Tony shook his head. "I'm fine," he said. "Just a little achy. The doctors are only keeping me here because Brad told them I got up too soon after the plague, and they want to make sure I don't overdo."

"As I recall, you had to take nearly a week off just before I arrived due to a relapse," Jenny said.

Tony shrugged again. "Yeah, well, getting soaked on the second day back wasn't in the plans," he said. Nor was nearly getting himself blown up or having Kate shot right in front of him, but he didn't go into that. Neither did Jenny, which showed some tact on her side.

"Is there anything else you want to tell me?" she asked.

"No, that's it."

"Well, then I'd better be getting back."

"Are you going to put a stop to Gibbs' investigation?"

She reached out and squeezed his hand. "I'll definitely have a talk with him." She squeezed again and left the room. A few moments later Jimmy came back in and Tony pulled him into a conversation about old TV shows to avoid serious talk.

Saturday, 1747, NCIS Headquarters

"Well, the CIA is not wrong," Ziva said. "There is a connection between Harris and Vargas."

"Definitely," McGee added. "There's a history of presents from Vargas to Harris.

"Like what?"

"Mostly expensive nothings," McGee replied. "Dinners, theater tickets, fine clothing."

"Bribes?" Gibbs asked.

McGee shook his head. "Nothing illegal, no sign of any kind of quid pro quo."

"Internal Affairs considers him clean," Ziva said. "There isn't a sniff of scandal about him."

"The phrase is 'whiff of scandal,' Ziva," Jenny corrected in a tense voice as she arrived in the bullpen. "Agent Gibbs, my office, now." She turned on her heel and strode toward the stairs.

Gibbs started after her, but gave his orders as he left. "Keep digging, both of you. I want to know what he had for breakfast on his eighth birthday." He followed Jenny up the stairs and into her office, wondering what she wanted.

She was waiting for him when he got there. She shut the door after he'd gone through it, then said, "I want you to nail that bastard to a wall."

Gibbs blinked at her. "I was planning on it. Why the sudden urgency?"

"DiNozzo called me," she said, and he raised his eyebrows.

"He talked to you?" he asked, startled that DiNozzo would have spoken to her, much less opened up to her.

She rolled her eyes and walked over towards her desk. "Of necessity. I'm the only person who has the authority to call you off."

"What?"

"He wanted me to put a stop to your investigation," she said, sitting down.

Gibbs walked over to the desk, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "Exactly why did you want to talk to me, Jen?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Did you miss the part where I told you to nail him to the wall?" she asked dryly.

He opened his mouth, discovered he had nothing to say, and closed it again. "What the hell did he say to you?"

She gazed up at him, her face stony and her eyes full of cold fire. "He gave me a reasoned and rational explanation of why he wants you to stop investigating, and I don't think he had a clue just how bad it sounded."

"You don't think he has feelings for the guy, do you?" he asked. "Because, no offense, but I'm not going to be taking your judgment where DiNozzo's emotional state is concerned."

"No, I don't think he's got feelings for him," Jen said sharply. "By the way, thanks for letting me know that it was more than sexual assault. It might have been nice to have that information going into that conversation."

"I've only been back from the hospital for ten minutes, Jen, and that's when I found out myself. You weren't here, and it isn't the kind of thing I'd tell you on a cell phone."

She stared at him. "He didn't waste any time, did he?"

"No, he ended our conversation with a request to stop my investigation, and I said no. Evidently he thought going over my head would solve the problem."

She sat back, pursing her lips. "DiNozzo's having a hell of a time right now getting anyone to take no for an answer."

Gibbs bent over the desk and glared at her. "Are you actually comparing me to Brody Harris?"

She shrugged, not responding to his attempt at intimidation. "I'm just thinking that DiNozzo has to be feeling pretty powerless about now."

Gibbs stood up again. "No doubt, but I'm not letting that stop me."

"I'm not saying it should, but DiNozzo is going in for some counseling after this, and nothing you can say will persuade me otherwise. Listening to him explain to me just why it was his fault that Harris raped him repeatedly was disturbing."

Gibbs blinked at her in astonishment. "He told you that?"

"What he told me was that he told Harris no, and when the bastard didn't listen, he didn't try to stop him. I asked him if he thought he could have stopped him, and he changed the subject."

Gibbs let out a frustrated sigh. "Of course he did."

"Have you seen this guy yet?"

Gibbs shook his head. "No, but Palmer has." She raised her eyebrows. "Evidently Palmer knew about this relationship a couple of months ago, thought Harris was bad news, but DiNozzo swore him to secrecy."

"Son of a –"

"And when I sent Jimmy out to pick up lunch, Harris pulled him over and interrogated him about DiNozzo's condition, intimidated his phone number out of him, and gave him a note to give to DiNozzo."

"What note?"

"It's in the lab," he said. "Standard stalker fare, and it demonstrates some perception into what makes DiNozzo tick."

"Has Tony seen it?"

"No, and I'm not sure he should," Gibbs replied. "By the way, did he mention that our buddy Preston went to see him?" Her eyes widened. "I guess not. He apparently gave DiNozzo the same patter he gave us, but Palmer interrupted them before DiNozzo could say yea or nay."

"Which was he going to say?"

"I believe he was going to refuse, but based more on the fact that Preston is insane to think Harris has a connection to Vargas than anything else."

"Have we found anything to link them?"

"The pattern of gifts is there, like Preston said, but apparently there's no sign whatsoever that Harris has ever done anything out of bounds."

Jenny shook her head. "You need to get something solid on Harris, something DiNozzo can't ignore."

"I'm working on it."

Gibbs went down to Abby's lab, where he found her reading through a copy of the letter, her face filled with dismay. "You okay, Abbs?" he asked.

She looked up. "Sure, Gibbs, I just . . . this reminds me of Michael. He wrote me a couple of letters like this. I mean, not exactly like this, but very similar. Very creepy."

Gibbs nodded. "Undoubtedly." He took the copy, figuring he'd better get one to Jen. "I need you to think back about six weeks ago, to taking Tony to a concert on a Friday night."

"The Undead Ants," she said, promptly. "That was a great night."

"Do you remember anything odd happening when you dropped him off?"

She shrugged. "Not really. I gave him a hug and a kiss, and teased him about the lipstick on his collar from where my friend Marla got a little fresh with him, then I went home. Why?"

"Because that's the night he broke it off with Harris," Gibbs said. "Evidently Harris saw your farewell and disapproved, and DiNozzo told him to take a hike."

"Wait . . . didn't he punch Tony? I thought that's why he . . ." Her voice trailed off, and her eyes opened wide. "He punched Tony because I kissed him, didn't he?"

Gibbs nodded. "'Fraid so, Abbs," he said. "Anyway, because of that, and because he's already approached Palmer to get information, Tony is worried that Harris might approach you."

"So that's why he wanted me to stay here."

"Yup. Now, that software you use to make composites, is it on a laptop?"

"Sure."

"I need you to take that laptop and go to the hospital. Tony's got three guys to describe to you, and get every detail you can out of him, however long it takes. Ziva will take you and drop you off, and I don't want you coming back until Ziva picks you up again, got that?"

She saluted. "Yes, sir, bossman, sir."

Saturday, 1842, Bethesda Naval Medical Center

Jeanne flipped the page and looked at the fashion photos in Cosmo. There were only so many medical articles she could read in succession. She sighed. Tony definitely knew she was here now, and clearly, he didn't want to see her. On the other hand, there were a lot of things they couldn't – or at least shouldn't – talk about.

As she looked from one fall of taffeta to another, though, she discovered that fashion wasn't holding her attention either. Her mind just kept flashing on other images that made it hard to focus on anything. Tony's arms, his neck, bruised to a fare-thee-well, the overlapping bruises on his rear end, and all the variety of bruises on his legs.

A drop of liquid landed on a picture of Sigourney Weaver in a brilliant crimson gown, causing the glossy paper to swell and distort. Another tickled down her cheek. Jeanne leaned back in the chair, pressing her hand to her eyes, willing the tears to stop, but her emotions weren't responding to reason right now.

She loved him. After that final meeting at NCIS, once she'd confessed her lie, she'd gone back to Africa, hoping his dismissal of her would enable her to move on, but it hadn't. He'd shown up in dreams, in nightmares, and her thoughts kept straying to him. She'd see a moment that made her think of a movie, and she'd want to call him and tell him. It was worse than the months after the break up, because then she had still been so angry and so hurt that those emotions had driven the others away. Guilt didn't do that, all it did was make her wish she could take it all back and make things right again.

Now here she was, not more than thirty feet away from where he lay in a hospital bed, hurting desperately, a victim of assault and who knew what else, and all she could do was sit here and wish he'd let her see him.

Was Ziva right? Was Tony's current condition, both physical and emotional, her fault? Had he gone out looking for something to get his mind off her attack on him and found an abusive bastard?

She grabbed a tissue off the side table and tried to contain her emotions, but once they'd broken free, she seemed to have no control at all. She crossed her arms and looked away from the door as the tears continued to fall. Not that anyone would be surprised to see someone crying in the waiting room of a hospital, but she didn't feel like sharing.

A voice in the doorway startled her and made her turn further away. "So, we weren't really introduced yesterday, but I'm Abby, and –" Abby broke off and Jeanne hunched slightly. "Are you crying?" Abby asked, and Jeanne buried her face in her hands. "Oh boy . . . I . . . I was just going to . . ." Jeanne felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I can't say what I was going to say if you're crying." Jeanne didn't know how to respond, so she just waved at the other woman, trying to tell her to go away, but she felt the shift in the seat as Abby sat down next to her. "Did something happen? What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" Jeanne repeated, hardly able to believe her ears. "Tony was sexually assaulted, that's what's wrong. I want to help him, but he doesn't seem to want me near him." She looked up to see Abby staring at her, eyes wide.

"He doesn't want anyone near him," Abby said, her eyes glistening. "I was here half of last night, and he kept telling me I should go home, that I should see if I could get Gibbs to go, too, like that was gonna happen."

Jeanne blinked at her. "Are you saying I shouldn't take it personally?' she asked.

Abby shrugged. "I don't know, it's just Tony. I mean, you did break his heart into tiny, tiny pieces, but he never wants to let anyone help him." Jeanne eyes welled up again, and she put the heels of her hand against her eyes, trying to hold the tears in. "Oh!" Abby exclaimed. "I didn't mean to . . . but you did. He was devastated both times after you left."

"So was I!" Jeanne blurted, then covered her mouth, shaking her head. "I hate this!"

Abby stared at her. "Oh my God! You still love him, don't you?" she said, sounding stunned. "But you accused him of murder!"

"I was angry and stupid and misled," Jeanne said. "And I wish I could undo it, but I can't."

"I'd say he'll get over it, only Tony's kind of fragile," Abby replied anxiously. "He's not real good with trust, but that's not surprising with his history."

Jeanne grimaced. "I don't even know him," she exclaimed softly. "His history . . . everything he told me about his father was about Agent Gibbs, I think, and –"

"Awww!" Abby exclaimed, and the choked quality of her voice made Jeanne looked up.

"Great, now you're crying."

"It's just . . . Gibbs has always had a father/older brother thing going with me, and with Tony, too, only with Tony it's more about head slaps and insults, but for Tony to do that is just so . . . so sweet. It's just so hard for him to . . . to . . ." She sniffled. "I have to get to work."

Jeanne was startled. She gave Abby a puzzled look. "Work? Here?"

"Yeah, Tony's supposed to describe these three guys to me, only I don't know who they are or why Gibbs wants to know what they look like, but I can't go in there looking like I've been crying. He'll be on it like that." She snapped her fingers. "But Gibbs is going to want to know what happened to me if I don't get done soon."

"You don't look like you've been crying," Jeanne said.

"Tony can always tell. He's Tony, and he always knows."

Jeanne offered her some tissues. "It will be fine."

Abby took them and picked up her bag. "Thanks."

Jeanne watched her go and then pulled her feet up on the chair with her, hugging her knees. It sounded like she might have done Tony a worse turn than he'd done her, hard as that was to imagine.